A Dance to Remember, A Friend to Forget
by STOPiamreading
Summary: William loved to dance. He was dancing alone, spinning in slow circles with his invisible partner. Suddenly he started to remember. His memories were in tatters, the only thing he knew was that Damien and Celine were gone and that it was somehow his fault. And then he encounters Dark. [Cover art by darkmagic-sweetheart on Tumblr]
1. Slow Dance With You

To William, dancing was a passion. He hummed along to a tune from long ago as he waltzed, eyes closed in blissful peace as he glided across the floor. He held his arms outwards in front of him, holding his delicate partner made of air. He smiled. Everything was just right.

He imagined dancing with a beautiful woman. Slender, soft hands held steadily onto his own large rough ones. Her dark eyes shined, complementing the deep black color of her hair. Sure, her dancing skills were sub-par, sometimes stepping on the tips of his shoes, but her wide carefree smile made up for it. She tilted her head back in light-hearted laughter as she and William spun faster across the floor.

William chuckled, a deep rumble in his chest. How realistic his invisible dance partner felt, how genuine. He almost felt a feeling of déjà vu, still spinning gracefully with his arms outstretched. William swore he saw her before; at a bar perhaps? No, that can't be, William thought. I know her too well. He imagined, no, remembered her. Her playful smile that aroused mystery and intrigue, how her soft hand felt when he held it, smooth and cool under his lips as he gently kissed its back, the way she listened eagerly to his past adventures even after the hundredth time he told them. He knew her. But who was she?

_Celine_

The name came to him in a flash. He stood still and silent in the middle of the empty room. Questions flooded into his head as he struggled to remember. Who is she? Where is she? What happened to her? William looked around the room in a panic, jerking wildly one direction to the next. His breathing became uneven and shallow, the relentless beating of his heart quickened, a loud throb pumping in his ears. He whispered her name repeatedly, almost in a low chant. He paced the room, quick and halting, clutching his head to try and remember something, anything that would clear the fog of confusion in his mind.

_Celine_

A name now firmly drilled into his skull, a name like a once dormant animal now awake and hungry, rummaging through his broken mind. A single word that was a trigger, exploding a stronghold of once forgotten memories, overlapping one another in rapid fire. How was it possible for him to forget something, someone so important? How could he simply forget her, his friend, his companion, his former lover?

_Celine_

A name that is an elegant question, a mystery in itself. A name on the tip of his tongue, between being said and not. Something missing, something lost, something that needed to be found before it was too late…

"Celine?" William hesitantly said aloud, the name rolling off his tongue naturally, a name he felt he had said countless times before, but felt somewhat foreign from lack of use.

Another name. Someone important, someone trusting, another someone from long ago…

"Damien?"


	2. It's All My Fault

"Celine? Damien? Stop hiding from me, now, you've had your fun. You can come on out now!" William shouted through the empty mansion, arms opened outwards in submission. He stumbled down the hall, the sound of his footsteps echoing sharply off the walls.

He already peaked through the large rooms on the lower floor multiple times, wandering in confused circles, calling their names. He already looked through all of the upstairs rooms, threw open bedroom doors, looked underneath beds, and rummaged through the large walk-in closets. He already checked everywhere.

Except for one room.

Something didn't want William inside. He felt an uncomfortable churning feeling of dread in his stomach every time he passed it. Its dark walnut door seemed foreboding, like a warning. The room seemed to whisper things -dark things- into his head. He stood in front of it a while, then took a deep breath, mentally shaking that feeling off as he walked closer to the door.

William shakily fumbled with the doorknob. They've got to be here somewhere. They wouldn't just leave me… right? He shoved it open, a loud bang sounded as the back of the door slammed into the wall.

"Celine? Damien?"

There was no reply. The bedroom was empty and spacious, the walls with a faded blue wallpaper. There were clothing and pillows strewn onto the floor, the sheets on the large bed crumbled and in disarray. The curtains were drawn shut, darkening the room and accentuating the shadows that filled it. There was a thin film of dust coating the surfaces of the room as if it hasn't been touched in years. It smelled old and damp, the only place in the house that seemed to be in a state of decay.

It was empty.

"No…" William whispered. "Please…" he said louder, voice faltering. Hot tears flowed from his eyes now, rolling down his cheeks in streaks.

"Celine, Damien! Come on now, I played your little game and followed your rules. You kept your little joke up for far too long. But it's okay, I know, I deserved it. I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry. Please forgive me." William shouted, slowly spinning around in the center of the room as if talking to a group of people who surrounded him.

"I just want to see you again. Please, don't leave me alone again. Please…" he pleaded in a low voice. William fell to his knees, loudly sobbing, hands covering his face. His shoulders quaked as he tried to breathe evenly in gasping breaths. Tears dripped down his shaking hand and poured through his fingers.

"Please…"

William sat slumped against the wall, his legs and arms outstretched, looking blankly into space. His eyes were red and swollen, burning every time he blinked, his face sticky and gritty from dried tears. Had it been an hour? Two? It didn't matter. Time didn't seem to function the same way here. He was stuck in a never-ending loop of thoughts.

_Maybe they are still hiding somewhere. Outside perhaps? Or somewhere else? Have I really checked everywhere?_ William tried to hold onto the hope that they were still somewhere. _Maybe they are the ones looking for me._ He smiled wistfully at the thought of Celine and Damien walking through the front door, smiling and congratulating him for seeing through their joke and playing their game.

_They'll come back, you'll see,_ he reassured himself.

William laughed. It started out as a forced low chuckle to a loud hysterical howl. He hugged his sides, his euphoria enough to make his chest hurt. William's eyes squinted due to intensity, fat tears pouring down his face as he continued to laugh. He found it ironic, how he was looking for people that he was barely able to remember. He was blind. For all he knew, they could already be dead. For all he knew, he could have been the one to have killed them…

William struggled to fill the missing gaps in his memory. _I know I would never hurt my only friends. I'm better than that._ He tried to remember anything else about Celine, Damien, and the other people he felt he had forgotten. There was nothing.

_But what if I hurt them and I just don't remember... What if they died because of me?_

William smiled sadly, his chest hurting from laughing so much.

_That must be it. I must have made myself forget because of the guilt of killing the two people I cared the most for in the whole world._

He vaguely recalled slowly pulling out a small golden pistol from his pocket, not consciously realizing his actions. He looked at it, seeing his reflection on its curved sides. He sensed that it was his, the weight of the weapon familiar in his hand, yet was unable to place exactly where and when he ever got it or how he even put it in his pocket. He decided not to dwell on it.

_This is the only way to make sure I never hurt anyone ever again._ He turned the safety off the pistol with a soft click.

"I'm sorry. It's all my fault. I should have known you'd leave me one day." he muttered to no one in particular, "I can't wait to see you again." He chuckled softly, looking down at the gun held firmly in one hand.

William's eyes held a grim determination, the eyes of a man that has already seen death so many times that it didn't matter anymore whether it was he who died. It was ironic how the murderer would also be murdering himself. Perhaps, William wondered, even killed looking down the barrel of the same gun. How beautifully fitting that would be. He felt an overwhelming feeling of peace and calmness, further instilling the idea that he was doing the right thing.

_This is the only way._

The door closed behind him with a soft click.


	3. Enter Dark

Dark stood near the edge of the balcony, his shoulders back and his arms behind him. He gazed at the open land before him, lost in thought. Standing so high up was peaceful. It gave one a sense of power, looking down upon seeming small and insignificant trees , already casting shadows with the setting of the sun. The view was also serene with an almost infinite amount of forest and sky, eyes scanning the distance for nothing in particular. It was… humbling.

_No wonder Damien liked places such as this so much._

It had been a long time since Dark heard Damien and Celine's voices in his head. Even now, he struggled to get used to _not_ hearing two people bickering in his mind. A part of him missed it. With the two of them around, he never felt alone or lost on his continuing quest for vengeance. His mind was silent now, the only voice being his own. The two personalities had finally congealed into his one configuration of being. Dark was just Dark now, and nothing else.

Dark leaned against the edge of the balcony, his arms supporting his weight on top of the stone barrier. He gently closed his eyes, slowly exhaling. The light breeze felt cool against his skin. He enjoyed the quiet. His stance loosened as he relaxed.

Coming up here helped him decompress. As he tended to get angered and annoyed easily, he found that this was the one place that he found peace.

_Mark._

His thoughts almost always returned to _Him_. The asshole of a man who framed Wil for his own murder. The man who killed for power and jealousy and stole his-_Damien's_ body. The man who made Dark the twisted, broken entity he was today. Would he and Wil ever fully recover from what Mark did that fateful night? Would he ever be satisfied with killing Mark? Would they ever be_ happy_?

There was a splintering crack. Underneath Dark's fisted hand was a fractured dent in the stone wall. He slowly removed his hand, unclenching it, powdery dust covering it.

Dark exhaled a shaky breath he didn't know he was holding. He gracefully rubbed the stone dust from his hand, instantly regaining his composure and poise. He hated how much control Mark had over him and his thoughts, even when the bastard wasn't here. Dark hated being so weak and full of self-doubt. How would he be able to get revenge when he couldn't even think straight? How would he be able to protect those he cared for if he couldn't mentally protect himself? How would he live with himself if he failed the one thing that had kept his fragmented body together for so long?

_So much for peace and quiet._

"Damien?"

Dark stiffened. He hadn't heard that voice nor was called "Damien" in years. He slowly turned to face the man.

"Hello, Wil."


	4. Remembrance

William sped up his pace with a beaming smile on his face, opening his arms widely as if to embrace Dark. He stopped suddenly, a few feet in front of the entity. His cheerful demeanor shattered. Dark looked at the broken man mournfully, conflicting with the red and blue aura around him that radiated power and angry passion.

"You're not Damien".

* * *

Damien… How long had it been since he had heard the name, let alone called by it? Years, mayhaps. There was something wrong. Dark subtly glanced over the crazed man in front of him. Wilford wore the familiar faded-red to pink suspenders and bow tie, the same pink mustache. He still had the same annoying sideways smile plastered on his face, but this time it was faltering. His eyes were red and puffy with shiny tear stains down his face. There was a gun clutched tightly in his shaking hand. And his voice... his voice was _the Colonel_. He didn't know, did he.

It only took a second for Dark to realize why Wilford came here.

It was then that Dark wished he didn't exist. Wilford was so happy when he mistook Dark for Damien. And Dark couldn't help but feel his heart break. Would there ever be a day when Wil would look at him the same way he did for Damien and Celine? Did he only care about Dark for the person, _persons_ he used to be? Dark forced the thoughts and the pain that came with it aside. What Wil thought of him didn't matter. There were much more pressing matters now.

* * *

Wilford laughed in a low voice, forcing the sound out of his throat. His eyes were scrunched and tears dripped down his cheeks and his smiling face.

"Oh, I am so sorry, you just look like the splitting image of a friend I know. His name's Damien, and he seems to be hiding from me, along with Celine. I-I don't seem to remember much about them, but I'm sure I'll find them real soon" Wilford stated confidently, hiding the gun behind his back. "I know how to find them, of course, but I'll let them continue to have fun with their little joke before I get them," Wilford chuckled. "Now tell me, who are you? You look familiar- and not just because you could very well be Damien's doppelgänger," Wilford questioned Dark in a jovial voice and a fake, painful smile.

Dark looked away for a second, pausing. He looked up at Wilford with a calm expression of hidden worry. "I'm an old friend," he ended up saying.

_A young Mark wearing red stood at the doorway with a proud toothy smile, waving a young William over. Mark stepped to the side, gesturing to someone behind him. It was a scrawny and well-dressed boy with a polite smile on his face. William bounded down the steps to greet them with a large crooked smile._

_"Damien, I present to you my good friend William. William, this is Damien," Mark announced theatrically. William excitedly grabbed Damien's hand, shaking it rigorously in a firm handshake. Wilford chuckled. He remembered this; this was the first time he met Damien. It was their friendship that created the trio of rascals that were seen running around the neighborhood. Mark, with his charisma and charm, was the obvious leader of the group and was the bonding force between all of them. William was the more rambunctious one with his troublemaking tendencies but was known for always being able to put a smile on one's face. And Damien was undisputedly the kindest one and helped keep the other two in check with his knack for persuasion and mediation._

_William's vibrant energy was contagious as Mark and Damien laughed. William started incoherently gushing about himself and Mark and everything they will do together. They all walking into Mark's large mansion of a house as Damien tried to absorb the endless stream of information coming out of William's mouth. Damien stared at William with curious eyes, being unused to his high energy. William then put his arms across Mark and Damien's shoulders._

_"Now we can all be friends!"_

Wilford began to remember.

Wilford laughed manically, a hard forced laughter. He fell to the floor on his knees, looking up at Dark with a broken smile and tears pouring down his face. "Where did it all go so wrong? We were so happy back then. What happened to us?"

Dark knelt in front of Wilford and embraced him tightly, wrapping his arms firmly around Wilford's side. Wil clutched onto the lapels of Dark's suit as he loudly sobbed. The once thought as heartless entity rocked gently back and forth, attempting to ignore the gun stuck in Wilford's enclosed fist.

_Wilford saw his child self again, William being first introduced to a young Celine by Damien in the familiar entrance hall of Mark's house, which was the common meeting place of the little gang. William saw Mark's lovestruck expression and his heart broke. William had only a vague sense of what love was, but he knew it was real and that it was what he felt for Celine. Of course, he said nothing, as he knew that Mark and Celine were meant to be together. Mark was a good man and Celine was happy. So William smiled. He was happy for them and he was their closest friend. But it hurt, it hurt so much. He loved her. For years he loved her. He always loved her._

_Time warped as Wilford saw himself in the foyer of Mark's mansion again, a banner hanging in the doorway saying "Goodbye Will" and his favorite song playing on the record player. William beamed, his new beige army uniform slightly loose on his young, lanky figure. Of course, his friends planned a surprise party before he left. There was food, drink, and reminiscing on old times. They've all changed a lot since then. Now Damien had a government position in town and Mark was a budding actor. Celine even became a successful medium, tailoring to her interest in the arcane arts and was also officially Mark's fiancé. So William wanted to make something of himself too. He was always interested in the art of war as he found the gun an effective way to channel his boundless amounts of energy. The party ended with William beckoning them all to stand together as he set up the tripod for his camera. Damien, Celine, and Mark looked at the camera with practiced smiles, wanting the picture to turn out well. William turned on the timer and jumped into the group without warning, the bright flash temporarily blinding them. Mark wanted another picture taken with all of them ready but William declined, saying he'd rather have it candid. Damien also made William promise that he would write to them frequently, which is how William found out about Mark and Celine's marriage months later. And Celine commented that a mustache or something would look good on his baby-smooth face, which William took to heart. The party ended with hugs being exchanged and a kiss on the cheek from Celine that William tried not to think about too much. He was happy. In the war he was known for his selflessness, his undying morale, and that he was a damn good marksman. After all, he had something, someones to live for. He found himself frequently looking at the photo they took that day, which he always kept in his inside jacket pocket. On the left was Damien, who looked at William with a surprised, yet amused expression. William was squashed between Damien and Mark with a beaming smile towards the camera and his hands a blur when he was moving his hands onto their shoulders. Mark was laughing with his face turned towards William, his eyes twinkling with mirth. Mark's arm was draped around Celine's waist, who watched them all with a knowing smile. It was nice to see that all the men she grew to love were happy. Too bad it wouldn't last._

_Wilford then saw himself many years later as the Colonel, walking through the familiar front door of Markiplier Manor. His bushy mustache and his once loose uniform being filled out with muscle were only some of the changes that occurred while he was away. He was much more mature, more focused, more capable than the boy he was before, though he didn't really notice it. And he became knowledgeable in more ways than one. William had many "partners" in his time away, men and women alike. He wanted to move on from Celine and the heartbreak that came along with it. After all, he wanted her and Mark to be happy more than anything. But when he saw Celine sitting on the familiar staircase of Mark's mansion one night with tears in her eyes, his heart broke all over again. He rushed to her side and held her as she cried, listening to her talk about Mark's changed personality to one of coldness and lack of love for her. William confessed his love for her, hesitant to confess something that he's kept to himself for years and to imply adultery with his best friend's wife. He feared her reaction the most and knew that she wouldn't accept. "It would have been you," she said with a mournful smile, "if you asked before Mark did, I would have chosen you". Then they had a long overdue conversation and Celine brought up the idea of running away together. And William agreed, willing to do anything for the woman in front of him. Fuck Mark, he was finally happy and knew that this, this was what true love felt like. The both of them smiled and laughed as William spun her off her feet. Then they both stop, kissing slow and gentle and happy as they both whispered "I love you"._

_Wilford watched in the background, crying. He wanted so much to call out to Celine, to hold her in his arms once more. He wanted to prevent all this pain and to tell her that they should have never left. He wanted scream and tell Celine to leave William, leave Mark, leave that cursed house and never return. But it was just a memory. He shouted her name anyways, but no sound left his mouth. Suddenly everything started to blur. And then a vision of Celine, covered in shadow, radiating light and power._

"Who _are_ you?" Wilford whispered, looking up at the strange entity with a look of bewilderment.

Dark's grip on Wilford loosened, averting his gaze in a momentary pause.

"My name? It's Dark."

"Sounds like Mark! Mark... What happened to-" Dark grimaced as he saw the inevitable come. And then Wilford remembered. He remembered everything.

_Glimpses of the Colonel shooting Mark with a loud bang, his body bleeding and falling to the floor in the wine cellar. Blood mixed with the crimson of his silk robe, staining the floor in wine red. Overlapping flashbacks of him shooting the detective and the man sliding to the floor. His white shirt stained with a bloom of crimson and a splatter of red on the wall where he once stood. The DA bleeding and looking at their bloodied hands before falling backwards off the staircase. Their final haunting look of shock and fear on their face as he outstretched his hand in an attempt to grab them with a futile "I'm sorry". Staring at the DA's body for 10 long hours while clutching Damien's cane until he saw them suddenly stir. There was so much blood, so much blood on his hands. He was right from the very beginning. It was all his fault._

"It's all my fault…" Wilford whispered, his body still. He quickly sat up to Dark's surprise and turned away from him, his gaze looking down at the gun in his hands. "I killed them, I killed them all. And I never even got to tell them I was sorry…"

Dark breath hitched as he warily eyed the pistol in Wil's fist. There wasn't much time.

"Wilf-_William_, it's not your fault. None of it. Mark planned everything from the very beginning. He wanted to die, he wanted you to kill him. And everything that happened after was a result of his actions, not yours. It was all _Mark's_ fault." Dark's voice became more echoed and the high pitched ringing grew louder. Wilford felt the intense hatred Dark had for Mark from the steely look in his eyes and the sneer on his face. Wilford couldn't help but tense up at the aggression radiating from the man. Dark seemed to notice this as he took a deep breath, the ringing gone and eyes filled with concern.

"It's not your fault that you forgot everything that happened that night at the Manor, _so many years ago,_" Dark said quietly, making sure Wilford understood. "It couldn't be helped, _Wilford_. Any sane person would have."

"Years… It's been so long since I've seen them, hasn't it. But how could I forget? How could I forget my best friends?" Wilford mumbled, his free hand carding through his hair with his other arm wrapped around his legs. He suddenly stopped, turning to look at Dark with a mournful look of a man who had seen death too many times, killed too many times. "Damien and Celine, what happened to them? Are they dead? Did I... did I kill them?" Tears started to well up in his eyes again, his voice breaking. "Or did they leave me?"

Dark firmly clasped his hands on Wilford's shoulders, pulling the pink man closer to him so they were eye to eye. "Damien and Celine didn't die, Wil. They didn't leave you, and they never will... _I_ never will." Dark says, his eyes full of tears he tried to hold back and failed, streaking his face. "Celine and Damien are here William, you found them. They are right here, remember?," Dark says in a voice that is distinctly both Damien and Celine as his red and blue aura flickered, cupping the sides of Wilford's face.

Wilford placed his free hand on top of Dark's, tears glistening in his eyes as he smiles widely in real happiness for the first time in years. "That's good, that's good. Are they well? Are they happy?"

Dark paused, his gaze looking guiltily to the side. Damien and Celine weren't here anymore. And even if they were, how could two souls be happy in the same, broken body? Would he ever be happy until Mark payed for what he had done to them and to Wilford? Would he… ever feel happiness? Dark looked Wilford in the eye.

"Yes," Dark said, his voice quiet and melancholy as he slowly lowered his hands from Wilford's face, "they're fine."

Wilford smiled sadly and down at the gold pistol in his lap and gently fiddled with the trigger, accepting the fact that Celine and Damien were, in a way, gone. He could never crash into Damien's office and sit on his desk while he was doing "official mayoral business". And he could never go downstairs late at night and dance with Celine with only the soft light of the moon illuminating their steps. At least they knew how sorry he was and how, even though it didn't feel like it, that maybe it _wasn't_ his fault, at least not all of it. At least they weren't dead and that they were still alive as this "Dark" person. At least they didn't leave him, thinking that he was a monster. And at least… they were happy, even without him. Wilford made eye contact with Dark once more.

"That's all I ever wanted."


	5. Final Scene

Dark and Wilford stood beside each other, looking out of the balcony in peaceful silence. Dark stood with his hands gently clasped behind his back while Wilford stood on his right with his hands on the stone edge, one of his palms resting on a cracked area with a hole the size of a fist. The shiny gold pistol was back in Wilford's usual spot and Dark was convinced that the pink mustached man wouldn't use it on himself, at least for now.

Dark knew that this peace was only temporary, as Wilford slowly forgot again. Wilford fully lived up to his famous quote: "Life needs a bit of madness", and it wouldn't be long before Dark would be running after him and cleaning up after his many affairs and "accidents". But for now, he was content that he hadn't lost his oldest friend.

The sun started to set as they stood there in contemplative silence for what felt like hours. Night was longer here and the sun set early, enveloping the grey sky with warm light and made the outlines of the clouds glow. The dark landscape of Raspy Hills was covered in shadow as the sun disappeared below the horizon. It was here that all of Mark's "egos" as the fans called them lived together in the large mansion overlooking the grim place. To Dark and Wilford, it was home.

"Hey Dark?" Wilford said, breaking the long silence with his familiar Warfstache drawl.

"What is it?"

"Am I a good man?"

Wilford turned to Dark, trying to judge his reaction. Dark remained stony-faced and neutral, his gaze still looking out at the vast expanse of hills. There was a lengthy pause and Wilford cringed and regretted trying to speak to Dark, a cold-hearted killer bent on the destruction of his creator, about _morals. _

"Wil, you are the _only _person that I can call my friend and after all the years I've known you, you're still the finest man I ever met. We both have our share of issues but know that I will always help you to the best of my ability, as I am confident that you would do the same for me. Because whatever happens, I am, and always shall be, your friend."

Wilford quickly turned to meet Dark's gaze, shocked. Hearing something this open and emotional from Dark was rare and thought to be impossible until now. He embraced Dark in a tight hug, not caring about what the entity would say about it.

"Thank you, Dark" Wilford whispered. Dark slightly stumbled backward from the impact, instinctively stiffening up with his arms still outstretched. His eyes widened slightly in surprise, but then he slowly wrapped his arms around Wilford, smiling slightly. And Dark, for once, was happy.

"Thank _you_, Wil".

* * *

"I do not understand," Googleplier says to Dark, "My primary objective is to destroy all of mankind, yet yours seems to be to destroy just one man. What makes Mark so special that he is your primary target?"

Dark pauses, deeply contemplating whether to tell the android. "It is because of what he did to _me_, to _them_," Dark emphasizes, Googliplier's brows furrowing, thinking his audio devices were malfunctioning after hearing Dark's voice disjointing into what sounded like two overlapping male and female voices. "But most of all, to _him_," Dark says, his gaze turning to Wilford, who was gesturing madly a few feet away as he boisterously talked with Bim Trimmer about their respective TV businesses.

"Because for whatever my word is worth, I would give anything to change the past and for him not to suffer from Mark's actions. But that isn't possible. It's for the better that he forgets and that I shoulder some of his pain. I just want to alleviate that suffering for both of us. I just… want him to be happy. I want _us_ to be happy. Even if it means killing the man who made me." Dark mutters mournfully with an overwhelming feeling of fatigue and guilt, not even able to muster the energy to feel angry.

Googleplier nods slowly, sensing a tone of finality in Dark's statement. He mentally resolves to make finding out more about Dark, Wilford, and Mark's shared past a priority. Dark then strides towards Wilford in long calculated steps, his hands clasped behind his back.

Bim subtly walks away, knowing better than to get between the two men or else feel like an awkward third wheel. Bim looks over to Google, who is causally observing Wilford and Dark from a distance.

The other egos frequently wondered about the nature of Dark and Wilford's past and their relationship. Dark was the only one able to get Wilford out of his depressive moods when he starts to "remember too much" as Dark puts it, and Wilford was the only one allowed to show any displays of affection towards Dark, let alone _touch_ the entity without being immediately met with anger.

Dark and Wilford's short conversation is inaudible, to Googleplier and Bim's dismay. Wilford laughs heartily and slings his arm around Dark's shoulder. Dark visibly sighs in annoyance. They both walk away, Dark listening to Wilford with his hands calmly held behind his back and Wilford gesturing madly with his free hand as he speaks enthusiastically.

Bim couldn't help noticing Dark glance at Wilford with a Mona Lisa-like smile. Googleplier couldn't help noticing how their footsteps were unconsciously in sync. And both saw that from behind, they looked like two opposite halves of the same whole, with their fluffy mass of hair parted in opposite directions and their respective light and dark color schemes. The other egos were satisfied that they may never get the answers to their questions, but at least Dark and Wilford were happy and stable for once.

And that is all anyone could ask for.


End file.
